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ღ Aerial Flybys
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25,900
Obsidian Gryphon
10,033
August 2016
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ObsidianGryphon
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Jade Empire
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 7, 2017 8:13:39 GMT
Obsidian Gryphon Your story about Alaryn is just better and better. The second part of Chapter 2 fits well as a traditional farewell in a noble family. And now I am quite sure that Alaryn &Co will hit trouble soon ... Counting chickens, eh?
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adrianbc
N3
Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 330 Likes: 582
inherit
2913
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582
adrianbc
330
Jan 20, 2017 10:05:58 GMT
January 2017
adrianbc
Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 7, 2017 9:46:32 GMT
Why should I do that? It`s just "too quiet", everything is going smoothly with the departure business - mother is away, father and brother are both supporting... Time for some trouble, and personal involvement. I guess?!
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adrianbc
N3
Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 330 Likes: 582
inherit
2913
0
582
adrianbc
330
Jan 20, 2017 10:05:58 GMT
January 2017
adrianbc
Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 8, 2017 12:11:50 GMT
I like very much Hawke & Co. They are all credible characters; their reactions are very different and related to a personal history never fully described. We have some hints based on specific reactions in dialogues or quests. But nothing detailed. And Bioware never released a novel about Hawke or the DA2 companions (there are some comics involving Varric and Isabela, but that`s something else).
Bioware treated DA2 very much as a failure almost from the start, which is at least strange since many DA fans are still playing and buying it. The game development was obviously halted too early. There is less extra content compared to DA:O and DA:I, no expansion like Awakening or Trespasser. And no Unlimited or GOTY edition will all DLC`s included. As if BW no longer want DA2 to be played or sold. Despite the fact that they fished out the main DA:I villain from a DA2 DLC.
Kirwall offered so many good opportunities: a strange commercial city with a perfect location for some intrigue between Orlais, Ferelden, pirates, raiders. A former Tevinter slave colony, with another bunch of unused plot sources. AND with a cast of diverse characters - mostly outsiders - each with personal goals and agenda, but who never gained much showtime in the game, with the exception of Anders. And that too was mostly half-cooked.
Consider Varric for instance. He was born on the surface, but into a noble family from Orzamar, just recently exiled. His dwarven heritage and education are mostly ignored in DA2. There are some hints and scenes, but not nearly enough. Nor were his choices explained - why he wrote fiction and lived at The Hanged Man. I decided to fill some gaps with Rite of Passage, but in a "dwarven" way. Since I first played DA:O I related Orzamar mostly to Medieval Japan. Sure, the caste system was closer to India, but there was a similar class system in Japan. More than that, the way the nobles behaved, and especially the way they solved their conflicts or planned their bid for power seemed close to the behavior of daimyos from the Sengoku period: their favor for hidden plots, assassination, and bribe.
Think about the way Bhelen acts in the DA:O noble origin. He plots for a long time with many nobles his rise for power, while pretending to enjoy frivolities (like Rica). He stages Trian`s assassination by making the future Aeducan Warden think that Trian is plotting against her/him and expecting a preventive assassination. If that fails, he takes care of Trian while both members from the Warden`s party except Gorim are bribed, and testify against her/him. Then the Warden is convicted by the bribed Assembly.
So I imagined a similar kind of plot for Rite of Passage, with several actors involved (Torrold, Dace) and both Varric and Bartrand acting as true Orzamar dwarfs. The full plot needed to be hidden for the most part of the story, and to happen mostly "underground".
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ღ Aerial Flybys
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Obsidian Gryphon
10,033
August 2016
obsidiangryphon
ObsidianGryphon
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Jade Empire
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 10, 2017 2:26:21 GMT
Why should I do that? It`s just "too quiet", everything is going smoothly with the departure business - mother is away, father and brother are both supporting... Time for some trouble, and personal involvement. I guess?! It always happens. The first chapter came up to about 5K words (I think. I keep to 5k per chapter with the fics I wrote) so I'm going to hit that same with #2; keeping a count with the copy I'm making.
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adrianbc
N3
Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 330 Likes: 582
inherit
2913
0
582
adrianbc
330
Jan 20, 2017 10:05:58 GMT
January 2017
adrianbc
Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 10, 2017 3:28:42 GMT
It always happens. The first chapter came up to about 5K words (I think. I keep to 5k per chapter with the fics I wrote) so I'm going to hit that same with #2; keeping a count with the copy I'm making. Just don`t let yourself distracted by the word count and forget about the story. I liked Chapter 1. It fits the DA world - the events linked to the 5th Blight, the expected reaction from a noble family responsible for its domain, the way things were done in Middle Ages. Chapter 2 is shaping well so far. It`s also refreshing to read about a noble family with common sense rather than the usual selfish entitlement used by Bioware so far concerning nobles from every country. I`m still wondering about the source of the first trouble sent Alaryn`s way ... I have some guesses, though.
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ღ Aerial Flybys
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Obsidian Gryphon
10,033
August 2016
obsidiangryphon
ObsidianGryphon
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Jade Empire
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 10, 2017 7:26:12 GMT
Just don`t let yourself distracted by the word count and forget about the story. I liked Chapter 1. It fits the DA world - the events linked to the 5th Blight, the expected reaction from a noble family responsible for its domain, the way things were done in Middle Ages. Chapter 2 is shaping well so far. It`s also refreshing to read about a noble family with common sense rather than the usual selfish entitlement used by Bioware so far concerning nobles from every country. I`m still wondering about the source of the first trouble sent Alaryn`s way ... I have some guesses, though. I must have a cut off point. A game is not a novel / fanfic. How interesting can a game be if all the stuff in there is normal? Players won't get any joy from playing it or satisfaction from correcting wrongs made by chars or fume in righteous exasperation at the shenanigans of political powers. Everything in games must be abnormal for it to be fun.
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adrianbc
N3
Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 330 Likes: 582
inherit
2913
0
582
adrianbc
330
Jan 20, 2017 10:05:58 GMT
January 2017
adrianbc
Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 10, 2017 8:25:49 GMT
I must have a cut off point. A game is not a novel / fanfic. How interesting can a game be if all the stuff in there is normal? Players won't get any joy from playing it or satisfaction from correcting wrongs made by chars or fume in righteous exasperation at the shenanigans of political powers. Everything in games must be abnormal for it to be fun. Not necessarily everything in games must be abnormal in order to be fun. That`s an overstatement. Fast paced, yes, I agree. You can write a story or a novel at "normal" pace and it`s ok. If you make a game at the same pace, it would be boring. But writing a story only about mundane, routine things is equally boring. I don`t think I could be interested in reading a story about a protagonist waking up, eating, going to work, coming home, watching TV or reading, going to sleep. And repeating all this endlessly. You need something unusual to happen in order to be worth telling. Like Patrick Süskind`s novella "The Pigeon". Having a pigeon in front of your door is hardly an extraordinary event. But in the case of an obsessive- compulsive character, it`s a disaster. As for selfish and entitled nobles, DA really have overused the formula in DA:O. Most of the nobles are acting this way, including Eamon and on lesser extent Teagan. It`s ok to have varied characters in a game with different interests and personalities, and of course, there is a need for traditional villains. But having all nobles acting the same way it`s plain boring. You can almost predict their dialogue lines sometimes ... This is why I considered a good sign your choice for nobles behavior in Alaryn`s story.
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inherit
ღ Aerial Flybys
61
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1
25,900
Obsidian Gryphon
10,033
August 2016
obsidiangryphon
ObsidianGryphon
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Jade Empire
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 11, 2017 23:49:39 GMT
As for selfish and entitled nobles, DA really have overused the formula in DA:O. Most of the nobles are acting this way, including Eamon and on lesser extent Teagan. It`s ok to have varied characters in a game with different interests and personalities, and of course, there is a need for traditional villains. But having all nobles acting the same way it`s plain boring. You can almost predict their dialogue lines sometimes ... This is why I considered a good sign your choice for nobles behavior in Alaryn`s story. Quite so. There's hardly a likeable noble in DAI. I'd thought it would be Teagan, the only decent guy in DAO, but he ended up shrunken and prissy and all to eager to flex his tongue like a gossipy kitchen maid out to oust the headcook. I got disgusted with every single one of them after Trespasser. Celine is the worst of all; off playing games with her elven lover when there's an important gathering! Is there not one decent noble house out there?! Chapter two is completed.
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adrianbc
N3
Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 330 Likes: 582
inherit
2913
0
582
adrianbc
330
Jan 20, 2017 10:05:58 GMT
January 2017
adrianbc
Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 12, 2017 5:27:03 GMT
Quite so. There's hardly a likeable noble in DAI. I'd thought it would be Teagan, the only decent guy in DAO, but he ended up shrunken and prissy and all to eager to flex his tongue like a gossipy kitchen maid out to oust the headcook. I got disgusted with every single one of them after Trespasser. Celine is the worst of all; off playing games with her elven lover when there's an important gathering! Is there not one decent noble house out there?! Chapter two is completed. Bioware started with Dragon Age nobles on a wrong foot (in DA:O and The Stolen Throne) and it just got worse with every new game and book. By the time of The Masked Empire and DA:I all nobles behaved like a shiny bunch of entitled moronic a**#les. The only real difference between them and sewer rats is their birthplace. And maybe, just maybe their outfit - although Orlesian noble fashion is so grotesque, that plain rags are rather an improvement. Celene is behaving more like a venomous snake - all peaceful when not threatened, but at the slightest sign of trouble - real or imagined - she`ll use her venomous surprise attack. Loghain was right to distrust her. Alaryn`s Story Chapter 2 ended well! I had some guesses about the source of trouble, but of course, I was wrong. As expected. It would have been really boring to guess your plot. Your idea sounds very good for a growing up Alaryn. Now I just hope for a Chapter 3 ...
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inherit
ღ Aerial Flybys
61
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1
25,900
Obsidian Gryphon
10,033
August 2016
obsidiangryphon
ObsidianGryphon
Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Jade Empire
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 13, 2017 0:03:04 GMT
Chapter completed. 021103.2017.ObsG
*
Chapter III 9.30 Dragon, Leundy Village
The foot that was midway through its swing continued on its way, connecting with the prone man on the sweet flag covered floor with a hard thump. Another grunt and tight panting breaths. At the sight of the group standing at the doorway, the owner of the foot stepped back, brushing back a greasy lock of blond hair back from his face with a hand.
"What are you doing, Paric?" Hutter demanded.
"This knife-ear was cursing me," Paric said angrily. A wheeze of a snigger broke from the elf. Paric snarled and would have landed another kick when Alaryn stepped nearer. He froze.
Taking one of the lanterns from the wall, Alaryn could see that it was indeed a Dalish. Knotty green vines swirled over his face, as if a plant had suddenly taken root on him. There were bruises at his eyes and cheeks. Cut and swollen lips. Marks of clouting? His skin was very pale and he was sweating. His leathers were green mottled with brown and grey with patterns reminiscent of leaves. From the hanging strings around his belt, the pouches had been cut. The knife sheath hung empty. His arms were bound behind him. He stared at Paric with a grin akin to mad delight.
"What did he say?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the elf.
"Some mad chatter in his heathen words, laughing he was. Cursing me he was!" Paric growled when the elf chuckled.
The elf turned his gaze on Alaryn when she crouched down near him. Landric tensed but did not stop her. The clear light grey of the elf's eyes startled her for she had not seen the like before. Raising a hand slowly, she reached for his chin. Pausing for a moment with a questioning look, she waited for a response. When there was none, she took his chin gently and turned his head side to side. She saw the cut near the back of his head, the blood dried and crusted over. His skin felt hot to her. He was running a fever. Her lips tightened at the finger marks around his neck.
"I want the mender and his assistants here, now," she said.
Landric nodded to one of the corporals who took off quickly.
"My lady, surely the elf do not--," Hutter began to say and broke off when Alaryn stood. At the look in her eyes, he fell silent.
"Tell me how you found him, Paric," she said.
Paric looked at Kern who said, "My lady, it was just as I--"
"I want to hear it from Paric."
As if realising she was displeased, Paric said meekly, "Me and my brother, we was out in the woods, polding the trees when we saw the knife-ear take down the stag. It's the lord's beast so we know the elf is breaking the law, they know not be intruding too but this one was so we know we have to catch him for the lord's justice."
"How did you catch him?"
"We went up on him, all quiet like and jumped on him." Paric made a pouncing motion with his arms. "He gave us a real fight too, cut up my arm good. We beat him up just to calm him down and bring him in."
"What did you do with the stag?"
An uneasy look flashed across Paric's face. He went still. "We left it behind," he said, blinking rapidly as he licked his lips. "We went back for it later as the mayor said it's the elf's misdeed we must show to the lord but it was already eaten up by other animals."
The burst of laughter from the elf startled them. Paric's face went red and he made a move for the elf but Alaryn's glare cut short his intention.
"Dirthara-ma. Na din'an sahlin," the elf said grinning, sweat rolling down his face as he forced himself up. He was looking even worse than before.
"You see, my lady," Kern said angrily, hands curling into fists. "He's cursing my brother."
"Ma halam." The elf looked at Kern before relaxing.
"Where are his belongings?" Alaryn asked.
"Over there." Paric pointed to a table in the far corner.
A longbow, a quiver of arrows and a dagger lay on top. The string was broken. The blade of the dagger was clean, Alaryn noted before looking around the table. There was no niche. "Where're the pouches on his belt?" she asked, eyeing the two brothers suspiciously.
They shrugged. "I didn't see any pouches," Kern said at the same time as Paric who said, "They must have been torn off." They looked at each other in irritation, clearly unhappy with the other's answer. A heavy frown came to settle on Hutter's brows.
The sound of many boots at the door drew their attention. Mender Riggs came in with his assistants. His brows raised slightly when he saw who was on the floor before coming down when he perceived the injuries.
"My lady." He bowed.
"I want you to examine the elf and determine what ails him. I want to know what injuries he has. See to them and clean him up. I also want you to check that man--," she pointed to Paric, "for any recent wounds."
"My lady, I have no need of the mender," Paric protested. "I am not injured."
"Sergeant Landric," she said, ignoring the outburst. "Hold Paric and Kern until the events of the incident can be cleared up. Their dwelling is to be searched..."
"My lady, this is excessive," Hutter interjected sharply. "What are these two men accused of?"
Alaryn regarded him thoughtfully. "I have not accused them of anything. They are witnesses to a crime against the law, against my father. Hence, I am taking steps to ensure their words and their virtue is unstained, that every single piece of evidence is presented. The elf holds no dwelling here. All that he owns, is on him and on this table. Open to examination and judgment. The holdings of Paric and Kern, too, must be searched by third parties to ensure they have nothing to hide."
"My lady," Kern said diffidently, looking a shade paler. "We can assure you we brought the knife-ear straight to the mayor and to this barn."
"I wish to be sure of that," she said. "Mayor Hutter, you will stay and bear witness to the examination. Once it is over, you will lead sergeant Landric to the brothers' home."
"Where shall I hold the witnesses, my lady?" Landric asked.
Glancing around the barn which was empty since the tithe for the year would not be collected until Harvestmere, Alaryn motioned to the farthest corner away from the elf. "They can stay here until the matter is resolved. They are not to wander without leave."
"Yes, my lady." Landric waved to the brothers to move themselves as Riggs bent over the elf who had fallen unconscious. Shuffling reluctantly at first, the two men moved more quickly as more soldiers appeared, taking up guard posts on both sides of the door. They settled themselves sullenly in the corner as Alaryn left the barn with Friesa. Back in her room at the tavern, she sat down at the table to wait.
The dinner dishes had been cleared away and someone had left behind a pot of tea and cups. Lightly tapping on the pot with a finger to check if it was hot, Friesa poured out a cup. "Tea, my lady?"
"Hmmm..." Alaryn turned the cup distractedly.
"Do you think them guilty?" Friesa asked as she sat down.
"Guilty of something they decidedly are."
"What about the elf?"
Alaryn sighed. "He knows something but he may not wish to speak of it. This is not exactly the way I thought I would meet a Dalish." She sipped the tea and grimaced at the slightly acrid tang.
"You'll want to meet them in battle, I wager," Friesa said with a grin.
Alaryn stared at her in astonishment. "When did I ever--," she began to say before she checked herself as memory asserted itself. "That was when I was still a childling, ears filled with wild stories and head filled with wild imaginations."
"Are both less filled now that you ride forth as a warrior?" Friesa asked teasingly.
"Less." Alaryn glared with mock anger when Friesa giggled. She stared into her cup. "I used to think and fear like these people do. The veterans' tales are full of Dalish savagery, they numbered how many of their companions they lost to those savages, how they lust for vengeance and stewed in hate. Then I go to Ostwick for the first time and see the elves there. I thought they're not people, that they worship strange gods, secretly practise blood rituals and eat babies. I could barely speak when one of them tried to serve me, I ran away."
"The city elves are more civilised, my lady, unlike the wild ones," Friesa said somberly. "The tales told of them is but the truth. If not for them, I would not have lost a father and an uncle."
"Is it?" Pulling a footstool over, Alaryn propped up her feet and leaned back in her chair. "Do you remember the Solime shepherd?"
"Who does not?"
"I heard the gossips, the tales. I was afraid. Then I watched my father sit in judgment and realised truth has many sides. Everyone has their side of it. To reach empathy and a just settlement, nothing must be left out. If not for my father, he would have been unjustly punished."
"Then you feel the Dalish have been unjustly condemned," Friesa said slowly.
"It has been eight hundred years since the Elves were broken. The weight of sentence has mouldered over long. It will not change because they have no voice. None desires to hear them or seek empathy. Now they wander and avoid any intercourse with us. To have tales of them that grow wilder and wilder is not surprising."
"Tales of their killing is no yarn," Friesa said flatly.
"No and yet if they're always treated as outlaws, we can expect no better conduct from them."
"They're not worthy of thought," Friesa said coldly and bitingly before getting up and rummaged through her own belongings.
Alaryn bit back a sigh as she watched her maid set up her own pallet. The heavy thumps a clear message of her unhappiness. She should have known better than to discuss a touchy matter with Friesa. Notions about elves was a crusty passion carried by most. She doubted it could ever be changed. To move such a river, it would take a colossal upheaval.
She rubbed her temple absentmindedly as she gazed unseeing at the candles on the table. The villagers presumed a matter of course for the trespassing elf. Yet, the outcome might not be what they expected.
"You should rest, my lady."
She turned her head to find Friesa next to her with a apologetic look on her face. "I can do with a rest," she said agreeably. She lie on the bed without taking off her boots and closed her eyes. Sleep did not come to her, not with the conundrum of the elf to resolve and that Riggs would be reporting to her soon. The familiar sound of Friesa moving about lulled her into a light doze. She woke immediately at the soft rap on the door and got up as Friesa moved to open it.
The maid gasped when the wide spread antlers and defleshed head of a stag appeared in the doorway instead of the expected men. She fell back as the head, the severed end wrapped in old leather, moved into the room. The soldier carrying it set it down on the floor by the table. Another placed a large battered pot next to it. They stepped back as Landric, Riggs and Hutter came in. The mayor was decidedly unhappy. Dragging their feet behind him was Paric and Kern who stopped at the landing outside with the soldiers escorting them.
"What did you find, sergeant?" Alaryn asked as she moved to the table to look into the pot. It was full of half smoked meat. She wrinkled her nose at the faint underlying sour odor.
"We found the head of the stag and a drying rack of meat at the home of the Holber brothers," he said. "We also found these on the shelves." He opened his hand to show three pouches with cut strings. "One is empty, the second is filled with herbs, the third--," he emptied out the pouch to reveal a medallion etched with leaves and twines, "-- this elven pendant."
"Mayor Hutter, could these--," Alaryn lightly tapped the pot with a foot, "--be the remaining boon bestowed by my father on Firstfall last year?"
It wasn't of course but she wanted the mayor to declare it. For a moment, Hutter looked as if he didn't want to answer. "No, my lady," he said finally. "The hunting gifts of your lord father is always in the charge of the village butcher."
"The meat is from a recent kill and it comes from a large animal. How did you come by it, Kern?"
"My lady, it's truth we tell. We went back for the stag to bring it in, the animals ate most of it. The head was there and a lot of meat so we decided to bring it back." Sweat rolled down Kern's face as his eyes flicked from Alaryn to the pot, to the stag and back again.
"This could feed many people for a few days," Alaryn observed.
"We thought to save trouble by dry...drying it first before giving it to the mayor to divide it up," Paric burst out.
"Mayor Hutter, you told these men to bring back the proof of the elf's misdeed. Did you ask them to cut it up and dry it?"
"No, my lady. It is my lord Varal's property. It is his will that decides what should be done with the stag."
The brothers went white. "M..my..lady...we..," Kern began.
"Did you remove the pouches from the elf?" Alaryn asked coldly.
"Yes...but we did not kill the stag. The elf did!" Paric said desperately.
"What was in the empty pouch?" Alaryn demanded.
"A few coppers," Kern mumbled. "My lady please..we.."
"Silence," Alaryn said shortly before turning to Riggs. "Mender Riggs."
"My lady, the elf has claw markings on his right leg that is healing. They are at least a few days old. He has a bump and a cut on the lower back of his head that has not been tended to and is festering. Marks of being knocked about on his back, his face and throttling on his neck. The lower left ribs are heavily bruised but not broken," Riggs said in a level voice. His eyes said something else differently when he glanced at the Holber brothers.
"Is the festering wound the cause of the fever?"
Riggs blinked, startled. Understanding came to him when he thought it over. "I would say yes. My assistants and I will keep close watch on him."
"Is he lucid?"
"He may speak with clarity on the morrow."
Alaryn nodded. "What did you find on Paric Holber?"
"There is no sign of any recent wounds, only wood splinters on his hands."
"Is there anything you wish to add, Mayor Hutter?" she asked.
He stared at her blankly for a moment before turning to look at the Holber brothers. Both men stared at him pleadingly. "My lady, I..do not excuse their actions. I ask only for mercy. They were both born in this village and have contributed much with their labors."
Silence fell. Everyone waited as Alaryn turned away from them and walked over to the half opened window, weighing her options. "Sergeant." She beckoned to Landric. "A patrol is coming through here, is it not, on the morrow?" she asked softly when he reached her.
"Yes my lady. Midday if I'm not mistaken."
"Very well." She turned to face the room. "All three men will be sent to my father for judgment. Sergeant Landric, see that all three do not leave the barn. Have the butcher and the hunter-gatherers examined the meat and the remains of the stag tomorrow."
"As you command, my lady," Landric said, a fist to his chest in salute. At a gesture, the soldiers at the door pulled the Holber brothers away. Numbed with shock, they made no protest nor resisted. The head of the stag and the pot of meat were swiftly borne away by the remaining soldiers. A glum Hutter bowed and left. Friesa closed and locked the door behind Landric, the last to leave.
Sitting down on her bed with a sigh, Alaryn unbuckled her boots and pulled them off. Friesa held out a basin of water and a towel as she removed her socks.
"Is the meat not from the stag?" she asked curiously as Alaryn washed her face.
"Didn't you notice the smell?" Alaryn said, dropping the towel back into the basin.
"I was too far away. If it smells vinegary, they could be using seasonings," Friesa said as she wring out the towel and emptied the water into one of the chamber pots.
"Seasonings on top of drying and smoking? There'll hardly be anything left to eat." Flopping down on her bed, she added, "If the taste doesn't kill whoever tries it first." She tossed and turned for a while before pushing the matter from her mind. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift as Friesa rustled about, putting out the lanterns and candles before she settled in her pallet. Silence fell.
"You could have dealt with the men," Friesa said softly.
"Hmmm...not with an elf in the pie," Alaryn mumbled, half asleep. "There're more answers to be found."
"Answers to what?" Friesa waited. When no answer was forthcoming, she lifted her head to peer at the bed but heard nothing except soft breathing. It would have to wait till the morrow.
*
There were not many villagers about when Alaryn made her way to the barn the next morning. Most of them had gone to the fields to tend to the land, the sheep, the herbage in the woods, the pollarding of trees. The few she encountered on the paths were polite though she sensed an unspoken resentment, the cause all too patent in their glances at the tithe barn. That they rather the elf took all the blame than to have two of their own found to be pinching from their overlord was plain.
She sidestepped two children, long loaves of bread wrapped in cloth in their arms, trotting to the tavern from the bakery. The savory smells of baking grew stronger as she approached the tithe barn. One of the guards at the door opened it. Stale air rushed out, bringing along a smell of hot oil and unwashed bodies.
"Open the windows," she told one of the soldiers standing inside as she stepped in. He flung open the windows facing the bakery. The fresh breeze that blew in took out the mustiness, replacing it with the aroma of hot rolls.
The Holber brothers stared at her from their corner, half-eaten pies in their hands. From the dark shadows around their eyes, their night hadn't been restful. She spared them a glance before going over to the pallet, where the elf lay, on the other side of the barn. One of Riggs's assistants, Koch, rose to his feet as she stopped beside him.
"How bad is the fever?" she asked, noting the beads of sweat on the elf's face.
"It broke not long ago my lady. With care and rest, his recovery will be quick," Koch said.
"Has he said anything?"
Koch shook his head. "Nothing we can make out. It was all in his own language."
"Will he be able to travel?"
"Yes, my lady."
Feeling a little disappointed, Alaryn turned away and stopped short at the touch on her lower calf. Surprised, she turned back to find the eyes of the elf opened. He withdrew his hand as his mouth moved. She bent closer. "What is it?"
"...bellanaris din'an heem."
"I'm sorry." She crouched down beside him. "I don't understand. Can you speak common?"
He blinked tiredly. "Ma melava halani." She frowned, the words were so faint. "Meat.--," Her eyes widened, "--.tainted."
"What?" she said in disbelief. Did she hear him right? "Did you say the stag is tainted?"
"Bad."
She stared at him, speechless for a moment. "Tainted as in what kind of bad. Are you talking about the taint from darkspawn?"
His nod was barely discernible. "Tainted."
"How is that possible?" Koch burst out in horror. "Fereldan is..." He broke off when she grabbed his arm.
"Quiet," she ordered in a low voice, looking over her shoulder. Except for dark looks from the Holber brothers, no one seemed to have heard what was said. "We do not want to rouse alarm. Is he still affected by the fever?" she demanded.
"I don't know--" Koch muttered as he bent over the elf, "--who am I?" He pointed to himself.
"Were you friends yesterday?" Alaryn asked caustically when the elf only blinked at him.
"I'm sorry," Koch said, flustered. A flush reddened his face. "I mean..."
"Shemlen..."
"Well he got the term right. No, don't sleep--." Koch reached out to shake the elf's shoulders.
"Let him rest." Alaryn turned to eye the Holber brothers apprehensively as she stood up and walked over to them. "How far away were you from the village when you saw the elf?"
The brothers looked at each other, as if deciding how they should answer. "The truth," she said sharply. "Your lives depend on it."
Their eyes widened. "Not far from the hookbeak spring, my lady," Kern said quickly. "About two leagues from the south gates."
"Hookbeak spring?"
"It's named for the rock from wheres the spring comes from. Looks like the hook beak of a hawk," Paric said, shaping a hand to show what he meant.
"You will lead me to this spring, Kern," Alaryn said. When he didn't move, she added, "Now." Kern stood up hastily. "Have sergeant Landric meet me at the stables," she said to one of the guards. "Escort this man to the stables," she told another. She stopped by the tavern to grab her sword, shield and bow before going to the stables, brushing off Friesa's concerned questions.
Landric appeared as she was tightening the girth on her horse. "My lady?" he asked in puzzlement for the stableboy was saddling up his horse.
"I want to see the place where they came across the elf and the stag." She went over the straps again before grabbing the reins to lead Liddy out. "You'll have to ride double." She nodded at Kern. "He'll lead us to the spot."
With a look of distaste, Landric beckoned to Kern. He checked the tack on his horse. "Good job," he said to the stableboy who grinned. Out in the yard, he mounted and offered a hand to Kerm who scrambled awkwardly up behind him. The horse snorted at the unexpected hard dig in the side. "Hold fast to my belt," he said shortly. "Where to from the main gates?"
"South gates," Kern corrected, grabbing hold of Landric's belt at the back as he swayed. "There's a path we usually take to our patch of trees."
"We should take more men," Landric murmured to Alaryn as he nudged his horse nearer to hers.
"We are enough," she said.
His brows shot up but he did not argue. Kicking his horse into a canter, he headed for the southern gates, Alaryn behind him. Following Kern's directions, they went down the southern road for half a candle mark before turning onto a well trodden path through groves of pollarded trees. A few villagers tending herbage at the groves gaped in astonishment as they went by. The groves ended at a stream. Beyond that, the thick growth of the forest clustered darkly.
"Where to?" Landric asked as Alaryn drew up beside him.
"Across and follow the stream, hookbeak is not far," Kern said, gesturing towards the left with his arm.
"Where were you when you saw the elf?" Alaryn asked before Landric could move off.
Eyes darting around him, Kern said, "Here, we were trimming the trees. We saw him with his bow out and running along the stream into the woods."
Gazing across the stream, Alaryn found his words highly questionable. The forest canopy was thick, light from the sun was barely reaching through. The elf was wearing leathers that had been made to blend in with the forest and shadows, how had they been able to see him? With the groves in clear sight and a warning of human habitation, the elf would make sure he remained unseen.
Landric met her gaze, the same doubt lurking in his eyes. She nudged Liddy across the stream and followed its meandering course as it curved away from the groves and into the forest. Except for the muted chirps of birds high above and the fleeting shadows of squirrels darting along branches, nothing moved on the sparse forest floor. The source of the spring appeared as a hump, becoming a small outcrop as they went nearer. She could see why it was called hookbeak. The wall surface of the outcrop jutted outward, curving down like the cruel beak of hawks. Water gurgled forth from a small crevice below.
"There." Kern pointed to the right of the outcrop. "We saw the elf cutting up his kill there."
"Off you get," Landric said. He grabbed Kern's arm as he hopped off. "Don't wander." He dismounted and handed the reins to Kern. "You know what's a hitching post."
"Uh..yes ser," Kern replied in confusion.
"That's what you are now." Without waiting for Kern's response, he went over to Alaryn who was searching the ground, Liddy's reins in her hands.
"A lot of blood here," she said, pointing to a irregular black patch of soil. "The ground is broken up."
"The elf gave them a fight," Landric observed. "The tracks of the stag is inconstant it was injured." He pointed to a rugged line of shallow depressions. "The elf was likely bent over the stag, they threw a stone at his head to daze him and then jumped him." Broken yellowish grey fragments littered the ground. He picked one up and turned it over in his hands. "This looks like a bone."
Alaryn frowned. "I wonder what happened to the hide and the bones?"
Rubbing his jaw, Landric said musingly, "They would have taken them but we didn't find any at their home."
"They left them behind?" Alaryn said doubtfully. She shook her head. "Abandon a hide that can be sold for a good price? Bones that can be stewed?"
"Unlikely," Landric agreed. "They couldn't bring them back perhaps."
"Do you think they're nearby?"
"I'll make a search. Don't let him get the better of you, my lady," he warned softly.
"The more foolish is he if he tries it but I'll not give him such a chance," Alaryn promised. She turned to pat Liddy on the nose, pretending to fuss over her horse as she watched Kern out of the corner of her eye. Plainly nervous and anxious, he stared in the direction where Landric had vanished, the reins gripped tightly in white knuckled hands. His eyes flicked to her, then all around. She wondered if he would try to run or mount on Landric's horse. Given his lack of experience with horses, attempting it might end up with him under the hooves. Running would be pointless when she could run him down easily.
His feet began to shuffle restlessly as time trickled by. Just when she thought he would pluck up the courage to do something, she spotted Landric's return. Not empty handed she noticed. A rolled up hide was held at arm's length in front of him. Kern saw it too. Incredulity swept over his face before it screwed up in disgust. Alaryn drew back in aversion at the stench as Landric came nearer. The horses snorted and tossed their heads, equally disturbed. Landric stopped several paces away, dumped the putrefying hide on the ground and opened it. Blackened bones rolled out.
"By the Maker!" Alaryn gasped, a hand cupped over her lower face.
"I found these under a tree, about a candlemark from here." Landric pointed at the hide and bones. "What is this Kern?" When the man only stared at him, he hauled him over to the hide. "Explain this."
"I don't know! The elf came awake and threw away the hide and the bones," Kern burst out, struggling to back away from the mess.
"So you were already butchering the stag before you brought back the elf," Landric growled.
"I...please. Why is this happening?!" Kern said wildly. "The bones were not like this. Three, four days, it shouldn't be like this!"
"The elf woke earlier and told me the stag is tainted," Alaryn revealed.
Two pairs of eyes regarded her. One in comprehension, the other in horror. "That's why you wanted to come out here, I see," Landric said.
"No--," Kern shook his head violently. "It can't be true."
"The truth lies there." Landric gestured to the bones. "We'll have to burn it."
"It can't be true!" Kern wailed.
"You and your brother ate some of the stag, didn't you?" Alaryn said softly. "Boiled some of the bones you brought back?"
Kern blanched white. "Maker, no.."
Landric recoiled when Kern vomited suddenly. He hunched over as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Alaryn looked away, the sight and sound increasing her nausea. When he was coughing up empty, Landric pounded Kern on the back. "Snap out of it!" he ordered. Collapsing to the ground in a heap, Kern sobbed.
"He's not going anywhere." Heaving a sigh, Landric said, "We need a good fire to burn everything, my lady. I'll stay here with him while you send some of the boys here with the makings of a bonfire."
"You'll be all right?"
"No animal is going to come near with that foul blighted remains smelling for leagues around."
"I'll be back soon," Alaryn promised. She mounted Liddy and headed back to the village.
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Post by adrianbc on Mar 13, 2017 17:29:20 GMT
Obsidian Gryphon Chapter 3 started with a bang! Alaryn`s first real test! Your idea is very good for her first trouble during her travel. I like your story more and more ...
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Post by Deleted on Mar 13, 2017 17:58:22 GMT
Clever. I like how she notices and gathers the clues the old-fashioned way to build the story-board for the encounter between the elf and the humans, and to see what matches the evidence, and what doesn't. Good piece.
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Post by tigerlily87 on Mar 29, 2017 0:35:48 GMT
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Post by Obsidian Gryphon on Mar 29, 2017 7:07:46 GMT
Chapter completed. 10204.2017.ObsG
*
Chapter IV 9.30 Dragon, Leundy Village
Once she was back at Leundy, Alaryn sent corporal Versh and a few soldiers, with Kern to show them the way, on a borrowed cart loaded with kindling, wood and oil. The pot of tainted meat went along with them. Mayor Hutter wanted to know what was going on, she told him to wait. Unable to voice his dissatisfaction, he stomped away down the stonepath to where a small cluster of villagers were gathered outside his home. Ignoring the glances thrown her way, Alaryn went to the tithe barn, hoping the elf was awake. He was not. She debated whether she ought to return to the tavern.
Muka, Riggs's second assistant was squatted next to the pallet, busily pouring warm water and liquid from medicinal vials into a small bowl and stirring the contents with a spoon. A potion, she supposed. She watched as he shook the elf awake, heaved him up to a half sitting position with an arm and brought the bowl to his lips. She skipped out of the way of flying liquid when the elf batted at the bowl, eyes half closed.
"Damnation," Muka cursed, putting the bowl on the ground to shake his hand before wiping it dry on his tunic. "Sorry, my lady," he apologised when he caught sight of her.
"Let me," she said when he prepared to bring the bowl to the elf again. "You hold him steady," she added, taking away the bowl before he could protest. She patted the elf gently on the face. "Wake up. Come on, wake up."
When his eyes were completely opened, she showed him the bowl. "Medicine. You have to drink. Medicine," she emphasized when he blinked drowsily at her. She tensed as she held it to his lips, ready to spring back if he resisted or spit but his mouth opened. "Has he anything to eat?" she asked when the bowl was emptied.
"Broth this morning, my lady." Muka took the bowl from her. "Riggs said to try some light pottage later, we'll see if he takes to that."
"I'll stay here awhile if you have to clear those up." Alaryn nodded at the basin and rags floating in dirty water sitting nearby.
"My thanks, my lady." Putting the vials back into the large pouch at his waist, Muka gathered up the bowl and basin and left the barn.
After a glance at the elf whose eyes were still open, Alaryn looked around before bending closer. "We found where the stag was killed," she said softly. His eyes opened wider and his lips lifted with a smile of satisfaction . "Can you tell me what happened?"
He blinked. For a moment, he said nothing, as if deciding whether he should speak out.
"We know what is happening at Ferelden. If it should break out over here, we can't stand around doing nothing. The taint spares no one."
His brows twitched and a gleam of respect came into his eyes. "I was hunting, far west of here. Close to the Vimmark Mountains. Came across a pack of wolves. Feral and dark. They did not smell right. I followed their tracks. I killed one and saw the beginnings of the taint. I knew then the blight have come. The wolves must be destroyed. I followed the pack and saw them attacked a herd of deer. The stag drew them off and led them on a chase. I followed. Killed more of the pack. The survivors scattered to the winds. The stag did not die but I knew it was seriously injured. No one would eat dead wolves but a stag is a different tale so I chose to follow."
His eyes closed. She waited patiently.
"I knew I was close to this village but I didn't think any one saw me. The stag had fallen near a stream, dying. It had to be destroyed, removed. I was about to but then I was attacked. You know the rest."
"You didn't see the two men."
"No. I was struck from behind by a thrown rock and before I could recover, they took advantage."
"Did the stag pass by the groves in clear sight"
"Yes. I knew it would not go near and waited for it to move."
"Where do you think the wolves came from?"
"You mean how they were tainted?" He opened his eyes. "The Blight had marched across this land. There are tunnels there were not closed."
"The Vimmark Mountains," Alaryn nodded in agreement. It was all too likely. "Do you know of the darkspawn gathering in Ferelden?"
"Yes. Word has spread. If you think some of the horde is spreading in the Deep Roads, yes. I believe some have made their way to the surface over here."
"Have you come across people, refugees, in the west?"
"I would not be able to tell."
Of course he wouldn't but she had to ask. She sat back on her heels, thinking. The border of Trevelyan lands was several leagues from the Vimmark Mountains. If the surviving blighted wolves held territory at the mountains, would they remain there? If they did not, they could easily wander across the border and wreaked havoc among the wildlife. The same could be said of the darkspawn if they had indeed surfaced. Her father must be apprised of the matter as soon as possible.
"Thank you," she said.
"What will you do with me?"
"By your account, you've broken no law. Everything that I have seen support this. However, the final judgment does not lie with me," she said regretfully. "But if you can help us, you may yet go free."
"Help you?"
"Our border marched close to the Vimmark mountains, if there is a darkspawn ingress, it must be closed."
"I only know where I encountered the blight wolves."
"That is more than what we know now. Will you lead the way?"
He sighed. "If I must do what is right--" he closed his eyes, "--you have my word."
"I am Alaryn."
"Not my lady?" He opened his eyes to look at her. "I would not have my hurts doubled for insolence," he said wryly.
"You may use it when no ears are close," she said with a smile.
"And I am called Vararian." He paused for a moment. "Alaryn."
"We'll be making for my father's border keep later."
"Very well, my lady," he said, looking at something over her shoulder.
She turned to see Muka returned with a small kettle. "I'll leave you to rest." She made arrangements with Muka to see that Vararian ride on one of the supply carts when they leave before making her way out of the tithe barn and made her way to the tavern. Absorbed in composing the letter she intended to write to her father, she did not see the small knot of villagers with Hutter in their midst approaching until they called out as she reached for the door of the tavern.
"My lady, would you hear our plea?"
Alaryn recognised the old woman who had spoken as the one tending to the hearth in the tavern last night. "What ails you, old mother?" she asked politely even though she could guess what they wanted to say.
The old woman stepped foward. "Yes," she nodded, "I'm old. I have seen many winters, hear the cries of the newborn and the bereft, know the honorable and the corrupt, felt kindness and cruelty."
Alaryn bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Enlighten me, old mother, of your expectation."
"Tis not right to repay the protection and generosity of thy father with thievery and falsehoods. Yet for all their foolishness, Kern and Paric have faithfully and loyally served from the moment they could lift a tool. Their labors have aided this village and they are kindly to those in need. This is their first transgression and it shall be their last. Can you not put a good word with lord Varal?"
The plea filled Alaryn with sadness. She offered her hands to the old woman who took hold hopefully. "Old mother," she said softly but clearly, "the deeds of Kern and Paric have become a far reaching burden."
"Why? Why do you say that?" Hutter asked anxiously. The others echoed the question as they stepped closer.
"I have seen the hide and the bones that Kern and Paric hid near the hookbeak stream. it is not falsehood that I speak." Alaryn looked at the villagers. "The stag was wounded and killed, not by the elf, but by blighted wolves."
They stared at her, faces turning pale at the implications. "The elf told me the blighted wolves were sighted near the Vimmark Mountains. He tracked the wounded stag out of fear that it would be devoured innocently. Alas, it happened as he had feared."
"Are you saying..," Hutter choked. The others looked horrified.
"Oh my lady, it can't be true!" the old woman cried out, falling to her knees.
"I'm sorry." Alaryn glanced at Hutter who hastily came forward to help. A couple of older women assisted the old woman to her feet and led her away as she wept.
"Meg is the oldest of us," Hutter said heavily. "She helps with the birthing, the care of childlings. We're all her children."
"Has she none of her own?"
"She lives her with eldest son. Her daughter is wed to a farrier at Ostwick. The youngest was lost in an accident." Wiping a tear away, Hutter turned to Alaryn. "Is there no hope then?" His shoulders sagged when she shook her head. "They're not very bad men, just foolish and thoughtless at times. What's to do?"
"The patrol will arrive soon. The brothers cannot stay here so they will go to my father who will safeguard them. If naught happens after a time, they might return," Alaryn said. Not a likely outcome but there was no harm in offering some hope. "From this day forth, mayor Hutter, there can be no pursue of small game. No flesh save those from your own flocks. Sick animals are to be separated and watched. If there is any sign of rot, send word to my father immediately."
Hutter nodded. "What about the greens, the fish?"
At that, Alaryn paused. "They should be safe but keep a watch for anything unusual."
He nodded again. "I...I will tell the others." He turned away and then turned back. "What about the elf?"
"He will go with us to the border keep and help to find where the blight wolves come from."
His mouth worked as he tried to take in that bit of news, then he shrugged. "As you say, my lady." He bowed and stomped down the stonepath. The remaining villagers trailed behind him.
Returning to her room, Alaryn sat down to write the letter to her father. Reining in her desire to know what had happened, Friesa bustled about as she finished packing up and then went down to the kitchen to bring up lunch. Alaryn had just set the seal on the wax of the parchment with her ring when she heard the sound of hooves. Going to the window, she saw the patrol clattering into the village. Picking up the parchment, she went downstairs and out to the yard. The officer leading the patrol dismounted on seeing her.
"Corporal Redall, at your service, Lady Trevelyan." He saluted.
"Please give this letter to my father, corporal." She handed him the parchment. "I'll also need you to escort two prisoners to the main keep."
"Prisoners?"
"There are two men of this village who are likely blighted." Redall's eyes widened. "The letter will explain what had happened. The men cannot stay here. If, once they're turned, the villagers may not be able to defend themselves. My father will know how to confine them."
"I understand my lady."
"Once you leave the village, hobble the men. Do not go too near them, let them out of your sight or allow them free will."
"Yes, my lady." Redall looked around. "Where are these men?"
Catching sight of the soldiers coming through the south gates, Alaryn gestured. "They're just returning with sergeant Landric."
A perplexed frown on his brows, Redall said, "I'll have a word with him. We'll set off after we're victualed."
"Of course. Please tell sergeant Landric to come see me once they have supped."
Redall saluted and moved off. Alaryn returned to her room to find Friesa had brought up the lunch but she had little appetite. The sight and smell of the hide and bones remained with her still. She poked at the slice of mutton with a knife and gave up. Pushing away the plate, she crumbled bread into the soup.
Watching her with worried eyes, Friesa asked, "What happened?"
Alaryn told her. Friesa blanched white at the thought of the Holber brothers consuming blighted meat and blood and what would happen to them. Her colour came back a little when she heard what was to be done with the elf.
"Surely his word cannot be trusted!" she burst out. "What is to stop him from running away the moment he is hale?"
"Nothing." Fresa stared at Alaryn in confusion. "If he is as astute as I think he is, he will not run."
"Oh mark me, he will be very astute to land a knife in you once your back is turned," Friesa said fiercely. "This is foolishness. He is a knife-ear."
"Enough," Alaryn said in a tone that still Friesa. "I'll not bind him. Come," she added to the knock on the door.
Landric came in. He noted without surprise the untouched meal on the table. "My lady, we burnt the remains and buried the ashes deep beneath the ground a distance away from the spring. The men are rested and ready to resume the journey."
"The Holber brothers?"
"They are--," Landric's lips twisted, "--indisposed. We have put them in the cart we used to transport the wood and oil. They will reach Barviel Reach more quickly."
Alaryn stood up. "Then let us be on our way."
"My lady." Taking up the saddlebags, Alaryn went down and out to the stables. The stableboy had already saddled Liddy. After tying down the saddlebags, she led the gelding out. A small crowd of villagers were gathered around the patrol, the cart in their midst. From the words and quiet sobbing, they were seeing off the Holber brothers. Neither Kern or Paric was visible so she supposed they were lying down in the cart. She mounted and cantered towards them.
As she went nearer, the sounds of weeping became louder. The crowd was just standing around now, looking lost. She caught Redall's eye and looked at the gates. He nodded and muttered softly to the soldier next to him, holding the reins of the cart horse. Nudging his horse forward gently, he cleared a path as the soldier followed. The crowd gave way, with some encouragement from Hutter. They watched silently as the patrol turned on to the broad path leading out of the village. The soldiers heading for Skanvar marched behind. She waited for them to go by before approaching Hutter.
"Be vigilant, mayor Hutter," she said to him.
"I will, my lady," he said as he looked up at her out of red rimmed eyes. "Maker go with you."
"Maker watch over you." She turned Liddy and followed as the end of the train went by. Once they were out of sight of the village and after a word with Landric, she headed up the direction of the road leading towards Barviel and caught up to the patrol easily. A look in the cart revealed the two men lying as still as statues, their skin glistening with sweat, their clothing wet and dirty with vomit. Their feet were tied. They also looked too white. Like corpses, she thought uncomfortably. The change from the hale hearty men of the morning was startling.
"Corporal," she said to Redall. "I don't know how long it would take for a blighted man to turn but it has been three days."
Redall looked uneasily back at the cart. "What do you suggest my lady?"
"Do not stop until you reach Barviel. If they make any threatening movement or behaved strangely, use your judgment." He blinked nervously at that. "Do not bring them into the keep. Hold them at a distance while you inform my father."
"I understand my lady. We will be careful."
After one last look at the Holber brothers, Alaryn turned Liddy around and went back down the road. The gallop was invigorating and distracting. She wished she could take Liddy for a good run but all too soon, she caught up with the train. She settled the gelding into a amble beside Landric.
"A drastic change, isn't it, my lady?" he said conversationally. "Pink and rosy one moment, dead men in the next."
"Is it a common sight?" she asked curiously.
"Even the bravest and most skillful warrior becomes a dead man if he believes he has no hope. And the poor weakling thought to be carrion at the first stroke of battle may become the victor if he believes he has a chance."
"How relevant is it in this occasion?"
"Against the blight? All the more reason to not lose hope." His teeth gleamed. "With death creeping upon you with assurance, would you lie down to wait for its touch meekly or stand to fight with every last breath you have to withhold death from touching those you safeguard?"
"I have yet to taste first blood."
"It is a poor notion to taste the blood of the blight."
"I do not mean that," she protested, turning to catch his grin. He was jesting with her. She snorted.
"Everyone faces that moment, be they warriors or farmers. I cannot tell you how you would fare. It is for you to find out," he said kindly.
She sighed. Every veteran said that. Sometimes she had been tempted to sneak off during a hunt to test herself against a bear but that would rouse the ire of her father. Her father at the height of temper, which he fortunately rarely lost, was a frightening experience so she had never tried. On her occasional jaunts to the freeholders, she had kept a look out for bears. Without success since bears avoid humans as much as the Dalish.
"Would the elf really help us?" Landric asked, changing the subject.
"I did not ask him but if he was hunting near the Vimmark Mountains, it follows that his clan is also nearby."
"Ah." Landric nodded. "His clan could have moved on without him."
"Not without looking for him. If they ran into blight wolves or darkspawn, they could be in trouble."
"I see. You help me, I help you. He is taking a risk. Neither Dalish nor humans ever trust the other."
"Against the Blight, neither has a choice."
"Their actions said differently in the second Blight," he reminded her.
"And they paid for it in blood and land. Would they risk complete destruction?"
He shrugged. "I have no inkling of their sentiments."
She tried not to lose her patience. As if sensing her temper, Landric fell silent and did not try to engage her in conversation as the day wore on. In the late afternoon, they were at the fringe of the woods. The faint grey outlines of Skanvar Keep wavered in the distance. They would reach it by nightfall. They stopped for a break to water the horses and a bite to eat.
Alaryn went to check on Vararian, ensconced at the bottom of the supply cart Friesa was riding on. The maid had a sour look on her face but said nothing when Alaryn bent to look into the cart. The elf was sleeping. Not inclined to chat with the unhappy maid, Alaryn returned to her gelding. As she was about to mount, she became aware of an odd thrumming in the air that was getting louder and louder. The ground beneath her boots trembled. As if many feet were beating upon it. She turned to survey the surroundings. It was coming from the eastern side of the woods.
All along the train, soldiers looked around, as confused as her. Landric went by, shouting to them to fall into battle lines. They formed a shield wall facing the eastern side of the woods but none drew their swords. Alaryn heard Landric calling to her to fall behind the lines but Liddy neighed and shied suddenly, almost tearing the reins from her hands. All the horses were equally disturbed. The drumming grew louder. To Alaryn's bewilderment, squeals and grunts filled the air. With shocking abruptness, a herd of deer rushed out at them from the thick undergrowth.
The shield wall held steady though the men ducked to avoid sharp hoofs as the deer scattered on seeing them, going every which way with several leaping right over their heads. Fennecs, wild pigs and ram darted past them. Barking and bleating their distress. The thrumming became heavier. It was as if the very air itself was breathing in bellows.
Alaryn grabbed hold of Liddy's reins before the gelding could take off. The canopy of the trees swayed and bent as if a gale was upon them. The thrumming grew louder and louder until it was almost deafening. Then, like a lightning bolt, a huge bulk shot passed over them. The horses tried to bolt but their handlers held on fast. Blasts of wind struck them as huge wings beat in the air. Dust and leaves swirled, twigs tumbled into the air. Friesa screamed, hunched down and covered her head with her arms.
A dragon!
Shock held Alaryn still for a moment before she leaped into the saddle. Liddy was more than willing to run. They galloped past the shield wall. Landric shouted but Alaryn was deaf to his call. She had to see the dragon. There were tales of them being sighted but never in the Free Marches. Now one had come. She had to see it.
They cleared the fringe of the woods and burst out into the open. Alaryn turned her head and her breath caught at the magnificent sight. The dragon glowed golden in the late afternoon sun. The wings seemed to shimmer. The dragon turned gracefully. Was it coming back? As it came nearer, Alaryn could see its horns were curved, its hide a scintillating amber. She urged Liddy to follow. Landric shouted in horror and warning as he ran towards Alaryn. Exposed with no cover, the dragon could easily snapped her up.
Instead of fear, Alaryn felt wonder. The dragon arced through the air. She felt as if she was one with it as the wind blew against her. It turned again and flew over her. A cry thundered from its throat. She watched as it flew towards the Vimmark Mountains. Sides heaving, the gelding stumbled to a halt. When the dragon could no longer be seen, Alaryn got down.
"Sorry, boy," she said, patting the gelding soothingly. "But that was something, wasn't it? I never thought I would see a dragon."
Taking up the reins, she walked to Landric who stood hunched over, bracing himself with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He looked up as she came nearer. "That was foolish," he said severely.
"I know," she said contritely.
"It could have killed you --" he wiped sweat from his eyes, "--you were out in the open." He blinked. "But it didn't?" he muttered in bemusement.
"Perhaps it was already sated."
"It behaved very strangely." He looked towards the mountains contemplatively.
She frowned as she thought it over. "Perhaps it was curious since I did not run away."
"How then did it see you when it was a distance away and you were behind it?"
She shrugged. "It is gone. We should be on our way," she said, not inclined to discuss the matter further. No doubt her uncle and father would have much to say once they heard what had happened.
The soldiers standing and watching fell back when they returned. Feeling their eyes on her, Alaryn tried not to flush red. If they thought her foolish, they were right. Yet, she would do no differently if she saw that dragon again. There was a mesmerising beauty to it that drew her. It could have been her imagination but she thought it knew she was there. That was why it had turned back. Why? To look at her? Or was it telling her something when it gave that cry before heading for the mountains? She shook herself. She was getting too fanciful.
Friesa gave her a relieved but incredulous look as she went by. The elf had not woken at all. In healing sleep no doubt. The soldiers fell back into their ranks and they moved on. As they headed down the road towards Skanvar, Alaryn couldn't help but looked towards Vimmark. There was nothing to be seen. Its face gave no hint of what was happening over there. Would the dragon nest there?
Dusk had fallen when they reached the curtain wall of Skanvar. The towers threw long shadows as they passed through the gatehouse. The soldiers turned towards the barracks in the inner bailey while Alaryn continued on to the second gatehouse and on to the keep. A heavily bearded man dressed in fine raiments, who looked vaguely familiar to her, stood waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs into the keep with two waiting servants.
"Lady Trevelyan, Aulus Wilmar, seneschal of Skanvar. At your service." He bowed as she dismounted.
Handing the reins to a waiting stableboy, she unstrapped her personal saddlebag before turning to Wilmar. "Seneschal, where is my uncle?" She had expected him to welcome her to the keep.
"My lord Trevelyan is presently attending a matter. He sends his regrets that he isn't here to receive you and looks forward to sup with you."
"I see. Please show me to my chamber, I would need to refresh myself. My maid will be along presently."
"This way, my lady."
She climbed the stairs after him, the two servants following with the rest of the saddlebags and her gear. The entryway was as she remembered it; four-sided with a dusty greyish red carpet of no determinate design and two lanterns hung on either side of the walls. The open door before her led to the great hall, now bustling with servants setting the tables for the evening meal.
They went through the door on the right and up a winding staircase. Alaryn remembered this too. It led to the second floor. She had skipped up this flight of stairs to her mother's chamber on their last visit. At the top of the stairs, Wilmar opened the first door at the landing and bowed her into the room. It was the same chamber but the hangings and coverlet were different. Fresh rushmats covered the stone floor. The rushlights were already lit, giving the room a warm glow. The servants placed their burdens carefully on the floor and went out at Wilmar's gesture.
"I'll have water brought up, my lady. Is there aught you need, you have only to say."
For a moment, she was tempted to ask about her uncle but decided she would see him soon enough to make a judgment. "Thank you, that is all."
Once the door closed behind him, she looked through each of the four windows around the room. Two looked into the inner bailey, the other two offered a view of the open fields which rolled down to the trade road between Ostwick and Kirkwall. Beyond the trade road was the coastline of the Free Marches. If she wanted a view of the Vimmark Mountains, she supposed she could ask for one the guest rooms on the third floor. Looking around the room, she perceived the attention that went into the preparation for her use. To ask for another room would be putting extra labor on the servants. It was unwarranted.
She put aside her disappointment and began to rack away her armor and weapons. Friesa came in with a flushed face with the rest of the baggage. Right behind her, servants brought buckets of warm water which they emptied into a basin and the wooden tub in the wardrobe. With her displeasure on the elf seemingly forgotten, Friesa fussed about to unpack and lay out clean clothes as Alaryn washed away the dust and dirt. While glad that her maid was not going to pull a long face with her, Alaryn wondered at the change of humor.
The fanfare for dinner came as she finished dressing. A final look at the wardrobe mirror to see that nothing was out of place before she went downstairs. Wilmar was waiting for her at the bottom. He led her down a side corridor to avoid the crowd of soldiers and knights now filing into the great hall. They emerged at the other end of the great hall where the high table was set. She had arrived just in time for she saw a tall thin man coming through another door at the other side. They reached the table together. "Alaryn?" Brown eyes swept over her in surprise.
She blinked at the unexpected deep voice, she didn't recall it being so deep but then he had spoken very softly and lightly to her when he did speak to her on her last visit. "Uncle Tarsus," she said with a little bow.
He smiled and offered her his hands. "You have grown so tall. Last I lay eyes on you, you barely reach my waist belt."
His hands felt cool and leathery in hers. He looked a little like her father except that his eyes were more deep set, the bones of his frame more angular and his beard trimmed close to his face. "It has been eight winters, uncle. You would see me more if you had but come by more often." She could have bitten off her tongue when his brown eyes seemed to cool. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to bring up his absence.
"Alas, Skanvar requires a firm hand," he said softly. "I trust all is well with my brother, your lord father?"
"He is, uncle."
He nodded and gestured for her to take her place. The men at the lower tables, a mixture of those who came with her and those from the keep, quietened when he raised his hand.
"Friends and brave warriors. In the days ahead, we will face uncertainties and difficulties. We can hope and pray the villainy gathering in far off lands does not spread here. If it does come upon these shores, the people and the land will need our resolve and our courage to ward off the blight. My lord Varal, my brother, has sent us his scion, Alaryn Trevelyan, to lend her strength and determination. To her, to you--," Tarsus took up the cup before him. Alaryn followed. The men all raised their cups. "Let us look to one another, let us not falter should what we fear come to pass. We will stand firm before the face of adversity. May the Maker look upon us kindly."
The men echoed the prayer and drank. At a nod from Tarsus, Wilmar signaled to the servitors who began to bring the food from the kitchen. Minstrels seated in a hidden alcove on the left began to play softly. Alone with her uncle at the high table, Alaryn couldn't think of a thing to say. He didn't seem inclined to talk either so she ate silently as she studied the great hall. It was slightly smaller than the great hall at Barviel so there was only a single great vaulted ceiling. The kitchen was on the right rather than the left, with a wooden painted screen hiding the entrance.
The walls were lit by rushlights instead of candles and lanterns. A mixture of wooden and metal shields were interspaced with old and dusty banners. Some of the symbols on the shields were foreign looking. She wondered where they came from. Given the history of the Free Marches, Tewinter? Or perhaps the barbarian hordes that came before?
Dinner came to a sedate close. As the herald sound a fanfare to signal its end, Tarsus turned to Alaryn as they stood to leave. "You must be tired so I'll see you on the morrow. We'll discuss what duties you will take up."
"Yes uncle."
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Wildfire
N2
Games: Mass Effect Trilogy, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, KOTOR, Neverwinter Nights, Jade Empire, Mass Effect Andromeda
Posts: 219 Likes: 799
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Post by Wildfire on Jun 19, 2017 21:16:09 GMT
Public service announcement:Just wanted to share something I found on Fanfiction.net with you: www.fanfiction.net/s/7612489/1/A-World-Without-ShadowsAmazing FemHawke/Merrill story, set during the three acts of DA2. There's no way I could do this fic justice by explaining just how great it is. It basically gives the (romance) story arc of DA2 all the love and care BW failed to do. Maybe that's enough? Now I'm gonna go back to reading it.
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absinthiana
N1
Drunken joyrider of stolen farm equipment.
Games: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights
Posts: 3 Likes: 13
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Drunken joyrider of stolen farm equipment.
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Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition, Neverwinter Nights
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Post by absinthiana on Jan 12, 2018 19:11:41 GMT
Unsure if I should post this in the DA: I section ... but the thread's title ... </newbishness> If fanfic about DA:O is your jam, you might be in luck - writing fanfic is mine, and I'm going through a huge pre-Blight phase. I've been stashing it all on AO3 - that's where the link will take you, so maybe open another window. I know you don't want to leave BSN. That would be madness. You do not have to join AO3 to read my stuff (or many others' stuffs), or to leave a comment or a kudos if you're so inclined. The Highever Trove: Five years before the Fifth Blight, the Teyrn of Highever is rumoured to conspire against young King Cailan. The King's sends his most trusted agent to investigate. There will be adventure and intrigue. Butts will be kicked, names will be taken. There will be a love story between two grown-ups. Feelings will be experienced and even discussed. There will be steamy bits.
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Post by Catilina on Jan 12, 2018 20:15:14 GMT
Unsure if I should post this in the DA:I section ... but the thread's title ... </newbishness>If fanfic about DA:O is your jam, you might be in luck - writing fanfic is mine, and I'm going through a huge pre-Blight phase. I've been stashing it all on AO3 - that's where the link will take you, so maybe open another window. I know you don't want to leave BSN. That would be madness. You do not have to join AO3 to read my stuff (or many others' stuffs), or to leave a comment or a kudos if you're so inclined. The Highever Trove: Five years before the Fifth Blight, the Teyrn of Highever is rumoured to conspire against young King Cailan. The King's sends his most trusted agent to investigate. There will be adventure and intrigue. Butts will be kicked, names will be taken. There will be a love story between two grown-ups. Feelings will be experienced and even discussed. There will be steamy bits. Don't worry, this is a good place for it.
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Post by Catilina on Sept 10, 2020 2:17:35 GMT
Okay. With my power, I try to rise this dead topic from its dead... The Magic Manifested 9.42 Dragon – in Herald's Rest
"Thin little boy with a puppy. They are coming! I'm not afraid. Never! Nevermore! I will not run away! I will not give him to you! You will not hurt him!" – "Shut up!" "I was a coward, COWARD! I ran, he suffered. ... COWARD!" – "Shut the fuck up!" "But. I'm. No. Longer. A COWARD! I'll face you! Just come here! ... Anger. Heat. Red. Take it! Heat. My hands are flaming! How? They're flaming! Screams! Gone. Peace. They will not hurt you anymore! I will not run anymore. I am strong." – "It was an accident..." "I know... – Mother cries. Why are you crying? Try to hug her. She turns away. Her face... sad. Cold. " – "She blamed me..." "As always, yes? – Father coming. Angry? No... It's... different... I don't understand. I did nothing wrong... they wanted to hurt him! Again! I couldn't... let... them! Tears. I don't cry! I..." – "What do you want, spirit?" "I want to help... it still hurt you. You're not coward. Not a murderer. They're gone... but..." "Yes, not my fault. Nothing 's my fault. Now leave me, I want to drink my beer. ALONE!" The air was empty next to him. ... "Spirit! Cole! Wait..." Ralph sighed. "Fuck." His jug has been emptied. „One more... or two!” The yell carried through the tavern – not his tavern, but all taverns are the same. Except not all taverns have a spirit in them...not all taverns are here...not all taverns have memories carved into the stained tables. This wasn’t his tavern, but it was a tavern. The ale showed up, and he drank. Memories drifted into his brain. Again... 9.14 Dragon – near RedcliffeIt's been a long time since then. He didn't tell anyone. Sometimes they caught him, beat him, took away his coins – it was not so hard. They were two, and much stronger than him. They threatened him, if he runs, if he tells, they'll catch his mabari. He once saw what they did to a cat. And he ran away and hid when he saw them. Even now, he still felt deep shame burn at that. He did not want his father to see his fear, so just went to "play" as usual, but avoided the place where he met them. He felt like a coward. He was sitting under a tree and the puppy ran around him. He fell asleep and dreamed. In his dream, he was big and strong – like the heroes, in Mother's tales. They begged for their lives... Suddenly he woke up and saw them – his dog in their hands, disgusting smile on their face. He was terribly afraid but stood up. He can't let it happen again! He must face them! Somehow. And then he felt like in his dream. He felt grown, tall – taller than them. Stronger. His eyes were feverish, his hands flared up. He stepped toward them, no longer felt fear. The dog was released and jumped down as they ran, looking for shelter at his feet. "You will not hurt him! You will not hurt anyone anymore!" , hissed. His fury exploded, burning the bullies. The guys, who haunted his nightmares, are no more. They burned like a torch, their scream one last living protest of fear and pain. Then everything suddenly became silent. It was over. He was strong. Invincible. Like in his dream! He didn’t notice the smell of burnt flesh, the bitter soot from hair and clothes. He stopped them. The puppy was safe. He’d made the puppy safe. He could keep his puppy safe. He didn’t have to be ashamed. Didn’t have to fear. * Mother and Father approached. "You see, I'm strong, can protect myself!" He ran to her, and tried to hug her – but Mother turns around. "Mom, why do you cry? I stopped them, they won’t be a problem now."...", It was something he had not seen before in her eyes. Fear. Coldness. "I've defended ourselves the puppy and me. I can help defend the family", he explained to Father. But Malcolm Hawke was not proud. And he was not angry. That was different. It was sad. "Do not be angry! I did..." A tear rolled over his face. No. He's not crying. He's strong. "Come on, boy, we'll go home. Everything will be okay." But his stomach clenched. This time, he didn't know why. It wasn’t shame, but something was wrong. He looked around. It wasn’t like his dream, suddenly. He was confused. "What happened to me?" "Do not be afraid, son. You are a mage just like me." Father put his hand on his shoulder protectively. "But you do not live in the Tower you live with us – I know, the mages live in the Tower. Are you a Mali...ficicarium? You did not hurt anyone! Am I a Malificicarium?" The word shuddered through him. "I'm not a Maleficarum, nor you. You're my son and a mage. Perhaps, "Apostate", but not a Maleficarum. Where did you hear that word? "When we were in Chantry. An old woman said. It sounded bad... evil. They created the Blight and made the Maker sad," whispered. "I was glad I'm not ... like that... But you did not do that like me... your hand never flared." "Idiot superstitious old crows," Malcolm hissed, his hands fisted. But audibly he only said: "You shouldn't do it either. You have to learn to hide it. You're my smart son. You know what they say about those who have the Gift." "But what kind of Gift is this, if I can not use it?" He asked disappointedly. "You can use it. I'll teach you how. But you have to learn not to use it. You have to learn to defend yourself without it. You do not want it to happen again." Father’s eyes looked over the two charred bodies and the now-playful puppy. "No," Ralph said and lowered his head to avoid his father's gaze. He was not entirely honest. The next day they collected their belongings and moved away.
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